Best Friends
by randomcat23
Summary: Best Friends? Sure. But they were a whole lot more than that too. A short fic inspired by the season 10 trailer. Caryl.


**Disclaimer:** Nope, I don't own The Walking Dead.

Just a little fic inspired by that Season Ten trailer.

* * *

The winter snow could not freeze her undying urge to flee, but Daryl postponed her acting on it. He'd find her staring longingly into the fire and bring her back to the present with a tap on her shoulder. Or when she took watch and the night called to her, he'd start telling her about his day, ask her opinion on the community going forward.

She let him ground her, recognizing this time had to be different.

There was only one instance when the urge nearly overwhelmed her. In a daze, she had crept around the house and gathered supplies. Daryl caught her later with her hands deep in a duffle bag. She gasped when he grabbed her wrist and said, "You can't. It ain't safe."

It would have annoyed her, if it was anyone but Daryl.

He was right of course. Leaving in the dead of night in the middle of winter? It wasn't safe. She could do it though, like she'd done before. But she wouldn't. Not now. Under his supervision, she unpacked the bag and they spent the rest of the night awake and silent with a pot of tea.

Blizzards howled. The fireplaces crackled and popped for months straight. The sharp pain in her heart eased, but the call of the road remained.

She had to go.

She knew it, like she knew her own heartbeat.

Daryl saw it each time he found her with wet eyes and shaking shoulders.

They eventually came to an agreement.

On one watch, she admitted to her shameful need. The longing to go, to be alone and gone. That time she had joked about taking a boat, turning into a sea captain and just floating away. An offhand comment. Her attempt at levity fell flat. Daryl had hung his head and a lump clogged her throat.

He then held up three fingers.

"Three weeks," he said. "You get three weeks. Then I'll meet you at the shore."

"Are you serious?" She choked.

"Yeah. It's what you gotta do."

Once the frost broke, that's exactly what she did. Carol took a boat and set sail down the coast. Echoes of humanity stuck out of the sand and rocky shoreline. Sagging piers. Beach houses swallowed up by the waves. The closer she was to shore, the more walkers she encountered. Therefore, she tried to stay further at sea, harvesting long forgotten summers on her father's boat. No mimosas now, but the old memories were enough to get her by.

She fished, watched the birds, and read. Mostly, she mourned. She laid on the deck and watched the clouds, remembered how Henry used to find rabbits in them, and then as he grew older, he'd identify the type of cloud.

Three weeks came and went by like summer vacation, blindingly fast.

Too fast.

She held up her end of their agreement, however.

It was a brisk morning at the end of those first weeks. Daryl greeted her with thermoses and they huddled on the beach while she cried.

"I'm not ready yet," she said to the gray sky.

He pulled her in tight. "It's fine. Three more weeks."

She nuzzled his shoulder in gratitude.

Again she took off, leaving him on the beach. She sailed out further than usual to escape his piercing gaze. Night after night the waves rocked her to sleep. The salty air cleansed her mind of blood and the asphalt of the Kingdom. The cawing gulls and flapping sail were her only companions.

It was the tiny house outside the Kingdom without any of the interruptions.

There were days where all she did was cry.

There were days she missed her family.

Daryl was a tether on her heart, one she tugged on while she bobbed along. It made her keep the beach in sight.

It took some time, but eventually the tension on that tether slackened. The need to run dulled. Two weeks gone, and she started missing Alexandria. By the time these three weeks were up, she was ready for the steady ground beneath her feet and Daryl at her side.

* * *

The wind plays with her braid as Carol directs the boat to their meeting point. The closer she gets, the gustier it becomes. Daryl's already on shore, waiting. She throws him a rope. A few generous waves later, the beach cradles the boat. Carol hops down before it stops rocking and nearly before Daryl finishes his knot.

He's earthy and solid. It makes her heart ache in a pleasing way. Full. Satisfied. Wanted. Wrapped up in his embrace, she knows this docking is different than the first.

"Good trip?" Grinning in that sheepish way of his, he slides his hands up and down her arms. It's comforting, it's sweet. It makes her stomach flip like it hasn't done in years.

"Yeah." She grabs one of his hands and meets his eyes. "I think it's my last one."

Surprised, he tilts his head. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good." He brings her in for another hug. The sand starts to shift under their weight by the time he lets her go and gestures to some nearby logs. There are little bundles next to a backpack peeking out from the grasses. She feels a little bad about making him bring all the supplies when she's just going to return with him. That he didn't assume she was done roaming, however, makes her love him a little bit more.

Carol takes one last look at her boat. It's a little cockeyed in the sand. They'll have to move it into a safer spot before they go back to Alexandria. Maybe it'll come in handy again, maybe not. Carol closes her eyes and listens to the crashing waves.

The pull is gone.

She smiles and follows him to the log.

"You know, I could have been in Florida by now if you didn't keep calling me back," she teases, giddy with her new weightlessness.

Daryl snorts as he eases himself to the log and unwraps their meal. After popping a bite in his mouth, he offers her a share.

"Sorry I didn't want my best friend to spend her whole life on a boat."

The label grabs her attention as much as the golden warmth laced in his voice. She fixates on the cute way he tries to stop smiling and she can't help but prod him further.

"Best friend? What are you, ten? Should we have matching bracelets now?"

"Forget it."

She almost forgot how easy it is to knock him back on his heels. Flustered, Daryl makes an easy target. She pounces on the opportunity.

"No, I could make some with fisherman's twine. Decorate it, real cute, with tiny little seashells."

He huffs and shuffles his feet. "I got an idea, why don't we eat and not talk?"

"Suit yourself, best friend." She bumps his shoulder with hers and returns to her meal. All she wanted to do was keep sneaking glances at him, but she forces herself to focus on the food. Six weeks on a boat didn't offer much variety in cuisine. Lots of fish, lots of dried meats and fruits. She savors the hard cheese and berries, but she can't tamper the temptation to pick up the conversation again.

"What would you call us then?" Daryl asks, breaking his own rule. Only once he swallows does he risk glancing at her.

"Us?" She says slowly, letting the pronoun hang between them.

"Yeah."

She clucks her tongue and eyes him. The fabric of his shirt clings to the curve of his arms as he reaches for more food. She likes the way his hair is parted now, it is easier to see his face and the intelligence in his eyes.

Carol dips her chin and laughs.

Best friends? Sure.

Best friends support you through the bad and the good. They find you when you're down and fight to bring you back from the edge. They make you laugh, they hold you when you cry. When everyone else fails, they are the rock you cling to.

He _is_ her best friend, has been for a lifetime now.

But that isn't the title she wants to give him. It's not enough anymore.

Carol wipes the crumbs from her fingers and rotates her body until she faces him squarely.

Confronted, Daryl pushes back. "It's a simple question."

"Pfft. Is it?" She inches closer, drops a hand to his knee. The contact traps him like a deer in headlights.

She leans in and kisses him softly.

It's a little extra promise that she won't be leaving any time soon. It's a thank you and a culmination of years of missed opportunities. But mostly, it's a new definition, one they've avoided for far too long. One she's ready to bestow on them as long as he is too.

Much like he grounded her during her time at sea, she does the same to him now. She fists his shirt, caresses the top of his thigh. Slowly, his joints loosen, elbows bend so he can cup her face. Knees unlock so he can come closer. Finally, his lips part, letting her in. She sighs at his fingers weaving in her hair and relishes the way his tongue slides along hers.

"Thought you'd just say something dumb like comrades or..." He trails off, his breathing as ragged as the choppy seas.

"I don't have a word for us, just yet." Carol shivers before kissing him again. "But that just means we can try out a bunch." She shimmies her shoulders and suggests, "Boyfriend, girlfriend?"

"N-no," he stutters, a blush coloring his cheeks. Despite the word rejection, he palms her waist, shrinking the space between them.

Carol hovers over his mouth, lowering her voice into a breathy, "Lovers?"

"Stop." The log rolls slightly as he adds a little pressure to the back of her neck, initiating the kiss this time. "How about we...just do this and not talk, huh?"

A laugh bursts from her and it draws a deep chuckle from him.

"Fine," Carol agrees when she catches her breath. "But I'm still going to make those bracelets."

* * *

**Author's Note: ** I creep on tumblr (I should really just break down and sign up) and was surprised to see so much dismay about this best friends scene. I don't follow spoilers, so maybe others have better context for this, but to me, it feels like it's leading to something and I. Can't. Contain. My. Excitement! There's no way we'd ever get anything this mushy, but I can dream, can't I?

This might be the quickest fic I've ever written. Please forgive any mistakes, but feel free to point them out. Now I must get back to all those other fics I've been working on...

Let me know what you think!-randomcat23


End file.
